Fight for Me

Chapter 5

Sherlock paced around the room that Lydia had broken into for them, his thoughts a mess. There were things about Lydia that didn't add up, things that seemed off. She was hiding something, that much was clear, even though she was quite talented at acting her way out of situations.

But there was also her voice, that seemed to haunt Sherlock. He had always had an ear for music and it was one of the few things that he really found beauty in. But that was mostly reserved for classical music, not musical theatre, which he often found rather annoying and often bordered pop too closely for his liking.

Yet her voice stuck with him, despite the song being ridiculous. She easily shed one skin to fit into another, becoming someone far bolder than the woman who had barged into his flat the day before practically radiating embarrassment. But her act wasn't perfect, she had faltered upon seeing him and John. Perhaps it was simply surprise, but it seemed to be something more.

Then there was her looks. All done up for the performance, she looked incredibly similar to Irene Adler. So similar, in fact, that for a brief moment he almost wondered if it were actually Irene on stage. She certainly would have no problem acting out such a scene, although she would probably choose to do it with less clothing.

Sherlock shook his head, clearly his thoughts of Irene and focusing instead on Lydia. Now that he had had more of a chance to study her, he was able to deduct more. She was an only child, lost someone close to her at a young age - a male relative, probably her father based on what John had told him about her. Lydia's relationship with her mother was tumultuous and he doubted Lydia had even spoken to her for at least a few years, if not longer. She had to have had some sort of sponsor when she was younger, the training that she had would have been far too expensive for someone as poor as she. And although she hid her emotions fairly well, she had a nervous tick of brushing her hair behind her ear, something he suspected she didn't even realise she was doing. The action allowed him to see that she wore the same rose tattoo as he had found on the body earlier that evening.

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted with a blood chilling cry, causing him to snap his head towards the source of the noise. John didn't seem too off-put by it as he had been listening to the rest of the piece, but Sherlock's first instinct was that something at happened. He slipped out of the room and hurried to the wings so he could peer out onto the stage where Lydia was joined by the two male members of the troupe: Lawrence Reeves and Noah Taylor.

Lydia was being held in Noah's arms and tears were streaming down her face, taking Sherlock aback slightly. He felt the urge to go on stage and demand to know what had happened, but he realised the music was still playing and Noah was singing so it must have all been part of the performance.

"Let me hold and help to heal you. Every day a little death." His voice was soft and Lydia weakly brought the mic back up to her lips as he sang.

"Every day a little death," she echoed, gazing out into the audience. She didn't usually get this emotional in a concert performance of the song, it wasn't as though it were actually being staged. But after all that had happened, it was hard to reign it in. So she let the emotions go, covering it with the facade that she was merely acting.

The three singers repeating that phrase until the music finally faded away and Sherlock was assured that Lydia was not in any real pain. Or at least nothing he could aid her with. He assumed it was probably an externalization of her grief surrounding the loss of Mr. Dawson, nothing more.

He went back to pacing, this time in the hallway, as the four members of the group returned to the stage for the finale. This was a waste of time, there was a murderer out there and he was waiting for a concert to finish before questioning the four people who may be able to give him a clue as to why Mr. Dawson was targeted. Besides, the concert itself was ridiculous and he didn't understand why anyone would waste their time at such an inane event.

As the finale came to a close, Lydia wore a smile on her face, grasping the hands of Lawrence and Zoe as they took their bows. As soon as the applause began to die down, Lydia ushered them backstage and whispered, "there is a man here, a detective, I have agreed to let him question us so he wouldn't get suspicious, but you can't let him know anything, ok? Answer everything else as truthfully as you can, but he cannot know, you know what will happen if we say anything."

"Why do they care? They haven't reached out in months, maybe they don't want us anymore," Lawrence replied, seeing this as an opportunity to cut ties with the Foundation once and for all.

"Lawrence, they killed Jake just because he landed a role, we can't anger them any further."

Lydia's words fell like a bomb, ushering the group into a shocked silence. Noah was the first to speak, his voice shaking as he asked, "Jake's dead? Wh-what happened?"

"You told them." Lydia's head whipped around to find Sherlock Holmes standing directly behind her.

She bit her lip nervously as she came up with an excuse, "of course, I thought it would be easier if it were to come from a friend and not some stranger."

His eyes narrowed at her, "and if I wanted to see their reactions?"

"Mr. Holmes, with all due respect, I don't give a shit what you want. One of our closest friends just died, don't you understand how painful that is? Your insinuation that one of us had anything to do with it is impertinent and only makes it harder for us. I agreed to you questioning us, but I will do everything within my power to help my friends through this, even if it-"

"Impedes my investigation and lets your friend's murderer go free? I should think it would be more painful to know that your friend died and you were the one who prevented me from bringing the murderer to justice," Sherlock interrupted her coolly, glaring down at her.

But she refused to be intimidated by him, "my apologies, I thought you were supposed to be a genius. If you cannot find this murderer because I told my friends that Jacob had died while you were not present, then perhaps you don't deserve that title."

The two fell into a tense silence, their glares seeming to drop the temperature of the hallway by about ten degrees. Behind Lydia, the other members of the group were still trying to process everything they had just seen and been told. It was immediately clear to them that Lydia knew more than she was letting on, but they were still resolved to trust her, at least until they had a chance to speak to her in private.

"Sherlock? What's going on?" John asked as he wandered out of the backstage room to find his best friend and former friend having a stare down in the middle of the hallway.

Lydia jumped to explain, "oh, Mr. Holmes was just being incredibly rude and insensitive, so the usual, I reckon."

She pushed past the detective, who merely glared at her, and began to lock up the rooms that they had opened backstage. Once she had finished with that, she returned to the group, handing them their belongings.

Finally, she turned to Sherlock, "we're going to be charged if we linger here, so if you want to question us, you're going to have to do it elsewhere. Unless, of course, you wish to pay the bill."

He did not break eye contact with her as he spoke to John, "we'll take them back to 221B, John get a cab and take Mr. Reeves and Ms. Richards. I'll accompany Ms. Evans and Mr. Taylor."

With that, Sherlock popped the collar of his Belstaff and left the theatre, his coat billowing behind him. Lydia rolled her eyes at his theatrics, but followed him regardless, knowing that she needed to get this over with. And hopefully she would never have to encounter this frustrating detective again.

Sherlock climbed into the cab first, Lydia getting stuck in the middle as they waited for Noah to catch up. The ride was filled with by uncomfortable silence, despite the cabbie attempting to make small talk. Sherlock was glued to his phone, while Lydia and Noah did not know what to say while in the presence of someone who would try to glean information out of every word they spoke.

-

(A/N): Some more Frank Wildhorn for noot39 (and also because I couldn't resist). Unfortunately they don't actually do the cry when they record the song in the studio, but it's after "Edmond Dantes is dead, dead and gone" which is probably not that necessary to know in the scheme of this story but figured I'd let you know anyway. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and tensions rising between Lydia and Sherlock!